


have it all

by starlard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: FRICKIN HAPPY ENDING, Future Fic, Hawaii, M/M, POV Danny Mahealani, Post-Canon, SELF-CARE IN HAWAII, Surfing, You'll see what I mean, and i spoil pretty much all of it, but still sterek-centric, i didn't try explaining much, if you don't know teen wolf i'm truly sorry, overzealous use of section breaks, self-care, uhhh, wow these tags will help no one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlard/pseuds/starlard
Summary: Danny just wants to be leftalone.Or, in a fit of charity, Danny invites Stiles to stay at his place on Oahu Island. Stiles immediately finds Derek Hale at his surf shop.Danny wants nothing to do with it.





	1. ❀

**Author's Note:**

> [have it all](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoDxbcV6Ifc)  
>  This is the second Jason Mraz song I've linked but come on! He's corny and [I love him.](https://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/pop/8466019/jason-mraz-interview-know-album-trump-bisexuality)

Danny did his best not to actively hate anyone. 

But he was allowed to have not-favorites, right? And while he’d never hated Stiles Stilinski, he’d never been a favorite. For one thing, watching his 7-year-long crush on Lydia Martin from the outside was cringe-inducing and made him worry that Stiles was going to turn into one of those douches that complains about being friend-zoned and/or goes psychopath when turned down. 

For another, he treated Danny like his personal Yoda for men-liking-men, and was always trying to pick him up, suss out if Danny found him attractive. (If Stiles had seen Danny as anything more than a stepping stone in the Beacon Hills High School social hierarchy, then maybe, _maybe_ he would have given him a shot. Like a 1% chance.)

And let’s not forget the time he blackmailed Danny into hacking the local phone company with his _juvenile record_. Those things are sealed for a reason. 

Yeah, Stiles Stilinski was a mess and a half. 

On the other hand…

He was, in Danny’s opinion, the unsung hero of Beacon Hills. He came out of high school with enough trauma to fuck up anyone, and decided to go into the FBI for some ridiculous reason. Well, Danny knew the reason. Stiles was never the type to _not_ help someone. He might whine, and moan, and suggest killing people because it was easier, but he always came through in the end, usually worse for wear. 

Maybe Danny looked back at his years in Beacon Hills and wished he’d have done more to help. He wasn’t going to blame himself for having a healthy sense of self-preservation, but the fact was that Stiles could have also saved himself and stayed away from the drama, and he didn’t.

So maybe that was why he still answered when Stiles sent him the bat signal through the five encrypted accounts Danny had set up. Stiles had since learned not to blackmail his friendly acquaintances, and asked for a favor every month or so. Danny was starting to suspect that Stiles didn’t actually _need_ his help, but liked seeing a friendly face. He also suspected that Stiles sent him the fun jobs.

He didn’t mind. It _had_ been fun hacking the Armenian prime minister’s Cloud to discover his kitty cosplay album. As in the prime minister was dressing up his cats as characters from Kill Bill. He didn’t know why Stiles wanted it; he was just happy to be along for the ride.

“Hey, Danny Boy!” said Stiles, grinning ear-to-ear and wearing a partially unbuttoned, wrinkled button-up shirt. It looked like he’d just gotten home, if the container of takeout and dark apartment were any indication. 

Right, it was past 10 pm there. He was six hours ahead of Danny, after all. Not that he knew that. As far as Stiles knew, Danny was still in San Francisco, maybe San Diego. One of the Sans.

“I just wanted to ask if you got that phone number for Stephen Kwan,” continued Stiles, shoving takeout into his mouth.

“Yeah, I already sent it to you this morning, remember?”

“Right! Sorry, I forgot. Busy day.” Stiles ate like a man famished. 

“Dude, are you sleeping okay?” What he meant, what he was really thinking was, _you look like utter shit right now._ Bright purple half-moons under his eyes, rough skin, a patch on his chin that he missed when shaving. He hadn’t seen Stiles look this bad since that whole demon thing that Danny refuses to think about too much. 

“Oh, yeah,” said Stiles, confidently leaning back and chewing with his mouth open. And if this was what he looked like on a good night of sleep, Danny didn’t want to think about the mess he was on a surveillance bender. “I mean, I never was great at sleeping, especially since the—” he waved his hands and rolled his eyes, “well, you know—”

Danny didn’t know, but he could think of five different things in Stiles’ past that would do the job of fucking up his sleep schedule.

“—and I’ve just been too wired anyway. Stuff’s been happening at work, so I get too wound up and don’t fall asleep until like three sometimes.”

“When’s the last time you took a vacation?”

“What do you mean?”

Danny dipped his chin in what Axel had called his ‘worried father’ look. “You… do get vacations, right?”

Stiles scratched the side of his nose. “Technically, yes. And officially, I have taken each one. It’s just something always happens every time I go back to Beacon Hills. Like last year—”

“Ah, ah,” admonished Danny. “I hear nothing, I see nothing.”

“Well, at least I won’t have to worry about my dad this time,” said Stiles, looking relieved in advance. “He’s going to a funeral in Wyoming or something, and his cousins are taking him for a fishing trip.”

“He’s also being forced to use his vacation days, isn’t he?”

“I worry for that man,” said Stiles, frowning into the distance, completely missing the irony of that statement. He shook it off visibly. “Anyway, it’s fine,” he said, breezily. Too breezily. “I’m just glad he’s getting out of Beacon Hills for a while. That place is not good for his blood pressure.”

Danny frowned.

“Hey, babe,” Danny heard, and he turned to see Axel sticking his gorgeous head through the door. “I dropped by the plantation and got you more pineapples like you asked.”

“Oh, I asked for pineapple, did I?” said Danny, swiveling in his chair and smiling at him cheekily. Danny was usually careful to only talk to Stiles when Axel wasn’t around—Axel was a piece of heaven that he would protect from the supernatural world with his life—but Axel had come home from work early last week, walking in on his last conversation with Stiles, and that was it. Cat out of the bag.

“Yes, I remember you asking very specifically this morning,” said Axel in his frankly delectable European accent. (He spoke like five languages, so Danny couldn’t characterize his accent as anything but a beautiful, continental mish-mash.) “You want to eat on the lanai tonight?”

“Sounds great,” said Danny, indulging in a slow once-over as Axel (and Axel’s ass) left the room. “Gimme ten minutes, and I’ll help you.”

Stiles leaned forward, eyes brightening in interest. “Wait, dude, are you in Hawaii?”

Danny slammed his laptop shut.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
And opened it, hissing _dangit_ under his breath. Because yes, there were exactly three people outside his family who knew where Danny lived, and yes, he was this reclusive on purpose, but he knew what it felt like to need an escape. There was a reason he’d never gone back to Beacon Hills after college, and why he left San Francisco as soon as he found out his ex-boyfriend was, yet again, a werewolf.

He called Stiles back, already regretting his decision. 

“Dropped your computer, huh?” said Stiles, straight up laughing at him like Danny was the clumsy one, of the two of them. How this man became an FBI agent, Danny would never know.

“When’s your vacation?” said Danny, massaging his temples to get a head start on the inevitable tension headache.

Sometimes being nice was a major, Stilinski-sized pain in the ass.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
_“Duuuude,”_ breathed Stiles, following Danny through the front door with his sunglasses hanging down his face and a crushed lei hanging around his neck. He dragged his backpack across the _brand new tiles_ and finally let it drop with a thump. “I knew you were Hawaiian royalty! I just knew it!”

“I’m not royal, I’m rich. There’s a difference,” said Danny flatly. “Like you would be if you chose a career in anything but martyrdom.”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Danny shook his head at the ceiling in frustration. Stiles was the sort of brilliant that tended to do well in his field. Quick to make connections, tenacious in his approach, forever upping his game. Not averse to long hours in front of the computer. He would have been a good programmer if he wanted to be. 

“You are Stiles!” said Axel, grinning winningly as he came out of his home office, leaning over to shake his hand enthusiastically. Stiles winced a bit, but Danny didn’t hold that against him. Axel really didn’t know his own strength sometimes. “You are the first friend of Danny’s that I’ve met from his years in California.”

“Really?” said Stiles, looking surprised and pleased at the same time. “I would’ve thought that Lydia—”

“I wasn’t kidding when I told you nobody knows where I live,” hissed Danny, leaning in and pasting an uneasy smile on his face. “Besides,” he said a little louder, because Axel was looking confused. “I know for a fact that Lydia and I have similar taste in men, so maybe I’m feeling a little protective.”

“I’ve heard this name before,” mused Axel, picking up Stiles’ bag and carrying it into the guest room. “Is she the one that was dating your best friend? You’ll have to tell me everything about Danny in high school, Stiles. He doesn’t talk about it much.”

Stiles froze for a moment as he took in Danny’s frantic _exnay-on-the-olvesway_ hand signals. “He’s probably just being modest,” he recovered, with a funny quirk to his lips. “Danny was, like, the king. Well, you know him. He’s hot, he’s nice, he was good at lacrosse. He could have been the co-captain if Jackson wasn’t such a d—delightful person.”

Danny thought he was exaggerating a bit, but it was a passably good save. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Stiles probably had more practice lying than a con artist.

And while Danny had known Stiles since fourth grade, and he’d never been a pillar of honesty in the first place, the thought just made him kind of sad now.

“You wanted to go to a luau, right?” suggested Danny, as a way of throwing him a bone. Not that Stiles would be going to his grandma’s backyard for the real thing. Tourists usually wanted tourist attractions. “There’s a place fifteen minutes away with hula dancers.”

From the way Stiles gasped, you’d think he was going to Disneyland. And he basically was.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Five hours and three mai tais later, Stiles’s shoulders were finally swinging loose and the premature wrinkles between his eyes were going away. It wasn’t until this moment that Danny realized just how dire things had been. If Stiles could just relax once in a while, and use proper moisturizer and sunscreen (fat chance) he’d look his actual age, not ten years older. 

“Man, could you imagine your hips moving like that?” said Stiles, watching the hula dancers in unabashed awe, chasing his straw around his glass with his lower lip and looking vaguely like a cow chewing its cud. Sometimes Danny wondered why nobody had locked that down yet. And then he remembered. 

“I took a hula class,” offered Axel. “With Danny. I wanted to learn more about his culture. It’s not easy to impress his parents, you know.”

“I can imagine,” said Stiles, with the dead serious face of somebody who was just past tipsy. “It must have been difficult. Like, I can barely touch my toes these days.”

“A desk job will do that for you,” agreed Axel, just as seriously. Axel was also drunk, by the way. “You know, surfing is a good way to get back into shape. It uses your—your buttocks?” he asked Danny, aware that wasn’t the most common word, but Danny just smiled encouragingly. “Your buttocks, and your hips and your core, and of course the swimming is fantastic for you. I really recommend it, while you’re here. I had to start when I moved here, and it’s done wonders.”

“What do you do, Axel?” said Stiles, smiling like a little shit because he clearly relished saying Axel’s name. 

Axel launched into an explanation of his job working for a Swiss agency that worked for the UN and his work researching the effect of different sunscreen ingredients on coral—a spiel Danny could recite by heart, he’d heard it so often—but Stiles was spellbound, asking pertinent questions and acting properly taken with Axel’s everything. Danny didn’t mind. He knew, damn well, that Axel was a catch. 

Axel was also a friendly Swiss giant, so it was less than five minutes later that he called his manager, took a vacation day for the next day, and made plans to take Stiles to surf lessons. 

“You should come, too, Danny!” said Stiles, and both men grinned at him with creepy, matching excitement.

“You guys go without me,” he said, smiling his most charming smile to take away any potential sting. “I learned how to surf when I was six.”

Axel pouted, but Danny kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time without me.”

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Danny woke up at seven the next day, made breakfast for everyone, and changed into his shorts and rash guard.

The idea of Stiles and Axel unsupervised, potentially exchanging email addresses and friendship bracelets, was too terrifying to ignore.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
“We just have to rent you a board,” said Danny, parking in a free lot behind the cluster of surf shops that was nearly invisible if you didn’t know about it. “It’s cheap enough, if you don’t need the surf lessons.”

“I’m surprised you never went surfing before, being from California,” said Axel, unstrapping their boards from the top of the car and carrying both with ease. “How far did you live from the beach?”

“Eh, about six hours, to the closest good one,” said Stiles, following behind and bouncing with excitement. “Besides, my parents weren’t really into it. My mom got sick when I was younger and it kind of put a dent on family vacations. I always wanted to try it, though.”

Damn it. It was like everything Stiles said made Danny want to push Stiles onto a luxury yacht with a personal masseuse and keep him there for a year. Stiles didn’t even bring up the fact that his mom never recovered. 

Seriously, when was the last time he had a vacation at all? Pre-school?

“—oh my gosh, I don’t care, we have to go here,” Stiles was babbling.

“Are you sure? We could look around,” said Axel, and Danny finally looked at what Stiles was so hot and bothered about.

It was a surf shop labeled Three Wolves Surf Company. It wasn’t anything special—t-shirts on sale in the front window, a big sign of rental prices, a rack of cheap sunglasses on the sidewalk. The only thing to distinguish this place from others was the logo, a wolf silhouette that had been stylized into a swirly three-wolf motif that was used freaking _everywhere._

Danny rolled his eyes. _Of course_ Stilinski would practically jizz himself over this place. He would probably even—yup, he was taking pictures right now, probably to send to Scott once he calmed down enough to text.

“I gotta get a t-shirt from this place,” Stiles was muttering to himself, tongue sticking out as he backed up to get a picture of the sign. 

“Your friend must really like wolves,” said Axel, casting amused glances his way.

“That’s an understatement,” Danny said grimly. 

Axel opened his mouth to say something else, but they heard a crash from inside the shop, and a broad-shouldered man with dark designer stubble and light hazel eyes stumbled out the front door, catching himself at the last minute.

“Stiles?”

Stiles’ mouth fell open, and he crouched down like the weight of his surprise was too much to bear, slapping his knees. “Derek Hale?”

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Of course Derek didn’t remember Danny. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like the sight of him, shirtless, in Stiles’ room sophomore year had sent him on a minor tailspin of _am I not attractive? I’m attractive, right?_ To his immature, slightly insecure teenage brain, he’d just been glad that such a gorgeous specimen was straight, because that meant he’d never have to compete with him at the Jungle. But then, as he saw the way Derek was looking at Stiles, maybe not.

So Derek’s gaze on Danny was polite and a little distant as Stiles explained that Danny and Axel had invited him to stay with them for his vacation. And then it sharpened with recognition when Stiles informed Danny that (duh), actually, this man’s name wasn’t Miguel, and he was no cousin. 

“I know, Stiles,” said Danny, trying not to laugh at him. “Our town isn’t _that_ big.”

Derek’s eyebrows could be their own language. “He’s the kid you paraded me in front of?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” said Stiles, looking unsure if he should be sorry or not.

Danny just gave Stiles a look.

Stiles winced. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry for blackmailing you. And trying to distract you with Derek’s muscles in a tight shirt. Seriously, that part wasn’t even planned, it was just kind of a happy accident.”

“This story is sounding more and more interesting,” said Axel, putting one arm around Danny’s waist.

“You already heard the most interesting part,” said Danny, indulging in an ass-squeeze. “Derek, you do surfing lessons, right? Stiles has never been.”

“Really?” Derek was smiling in a way that was pretty darn radiant. “Want me to show you the ropes?”

Stiles was oblivious. How he could write in-depth analysis on remote surveillance that made it to the desks of the top brass, and miss the blatant way Derek was checking him out, was way beyond Danny’s comprehension. Stiles started waving his hands nervously. “Nah, it’s okay. You’ve probably got things you were planning—”

“Actually, would you mind?” cut in Danny, addressing Derek directly. “Axel and I could use some time to ourselves, and you’re a professional instructor, after all.”

Axel didn’t even flinch, just pulled Danny closer and smiled winningly. “Right, I don’t take many days off, and it would give you two a chance to catch up.”

“Sounds great,” said Derek, trying to hide his excitement, but his eyes were locked hungrily on Stiles’ neck. Oh yeah, that man was a werewolf for sure. 

“Tell you what, you guys hang out for today, and then we can meet for dinner tonight,” said Axel. “You’re welcome to come to our house, Derek. What time do you close the shop?”

“Uh, I can go anytime. I have part-timers,” said Derek, and somehow he’d migrated two feet closer to Stiles without anybody (probably Derek included) noticing. 

“Great. We’ll text you.” Axel waggled his blonde eyebrows at them once, because he couldn’t help it, and pulled Danny away by the hand. “That Stiles needs all the help he can get,” he whispered in Danny’s ear as they walked down the street, leaving Stiles and Derek at the surf shop.

“Babe, you have no idea.”

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Axel insisted on eating lunch at a restaurant that looked out over the beach, where they could watch Derek and Stiles pretend to surf in the distance. The day was pristine, the waves were perfect, but Stiles just spent the whole two hours straddling his surf board, talking animatedly while Derek leaned his forearms on the same board and, as far as they could see from such a great distance, gazed up at him in blatant interest. 

“You did a good thing, inviting Stiles,” said Axel, motioning for another fruity smoothie cocktail thing as they waited. “I know you try to keep your high school friends separate from your life here—”

Danny’s hand spasmed and caused his silverware to clink obnoxiously. He tried not to be too obvious about it, but of course Axel figured it out eventually.

“—but I think he really needed it.”

Danny nodded and looked down. Stiles also needed that intervention about moisturizing properly, but he didn’t know when, if ever, he could succeed at that.

“I know something happened to you when you were in high school,” Axel continued, and Danny slouched down in his chair, “and I would never force you to talk about it, but if you ever want to, you can. I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me.”

Danny watched him, letting the sound of the waves crashing bring him a feeling of peace. He did want to tell Axel more, for Axel to understand why Danny was the way he was, but wasn’t sure how he could do that without spilling the whole bag of supernatural beans. “My hometown in California,” he started, trying to find the right words, “it was like a warzone sometimes. It was just this small town in the woods, but we had the highest rate of kidnappings, assault, murder, all of that.”

“Was it, like, gang activity?” Axel leaned his head on his hand, and this whole conversation was utterly incongruous with their surroundings. Like talking about Beacon Hills, with its mysterious preserve and the sound of wolves howling, on a beach in Oahu, was illegal. And yeah, sometimes Danny did things that weren’t completely black-and-white, but he was never a rule-breaker at heart.

Danny shook off the feeling. The fact that he’d compartmentalized his Beacon Hills years so aggressively was his own fault. “No, not exactly. Maybe a little, it was kind of cult-like, too. Religious. Back then, I just tried to stay away from all that stuff, but it still kind of got to me. My, uh, my best friend...” Danny put a hand on each arm of his chair and squeezed, because he didn’t want to say this while hiding in a defensive posture. “He got caught up in it. He actually wanted to be a part of that world, and when he got in, it changed him. Completely. Someone actually brainwashed him and he killed a few people, and I didn’t know about it until his parents moved him to London.” Good. That was a pretty good explanation, and he didn’t even hint that Jackson had turned into a giant lizard monster with paralyzing venom.

Axel just nodded gravely, like, _yes, I’ve heard America can be really fucked up. It all makes sense now._

“So I just tried to keep my head down after that,” said Danny, already feeling a weight off his chest. “I almost made it, too, but then I had a boyfriend who, turns out, was part of this group. His twin died in a fight, and I just—I couldn’t do it. I broke up with him as soon as I found out, right after his brother died. I feel bad about that, still.” Ethan couldn’t help that he was a werewolf, after all. Danny wondered if that made him speciesist or something.

Danny shook his head, looked down and gave into the impulse to clean his nails. He really needed to cut them. 

Axel put a big, meaty hand on Danny’s, and the warmth of it calmed him. “You should not feel bad about taking care of yourself in a dangerous situation.”

“I usually don’t,” Danny confessed. “Maybe I should more often. It’s just, I look at Stiles—” and he motioned out to where Stiles was waving his hands around, almost tumbling off the surfboard if it weren’t for Derek holding it steady, “—and he went through so much more than me. And he was just trying to fix things, you know. Take care of his friends. I knew my friends were going through shit, and I pretended not to.”

“Maybe that was what they needed,” Axel said gently, pulling Danny’s left hand to him so he could kiss his palm. “Somebody to be normal. Somebody they could escape with when they were having a hard time. Isn’t that what you’re doing for Stiles now?”

Danny couldn’t shake the worried look off his face, but he gave Axel the best half-smile he had in him. “I love you,” he said, hoping Axel would hear the hidden apology for being secretive.

“I love you too, my Danny,” said Axel, leaning forward and cupping a hand around Danny’s head as he gave him a sweet, lingering kiss. “Let’s go shopping. Your friend is going to need some aloe cream for that sunburn he’s about to get.”


	2. ❁

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny tries to stay out of it, and fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding working at the FBI:  
> I know nooooothiiiiing. 
> 
> I also realized that having both Derek and Danny interacting in a fic is unfortunate only because their names look kinda the same if you're reading fast. I found myself making mistakes even as I was writing it.

Sure enough, Stiles neglected to re-apply sunscreen and came out of the ocean looking a little poached. But from the way Derek couldn’t take his eyes off him, it was like he thought the redness just enhanced the features he already liked. 

They had bacon hamburgers on the lanai in the backyard, where Danny and Axel usually ate. Danny was pretty proud of their backyard. It was mostly paved, with tropical plantings and a small grove of palm trees toward the back. Low-maintenance and beautiful. Oh, and the pool, just big enough to relax in when it got too hot. Danny didn’t make good money to just let it sit in the bank.

(To be fair, Axel had bought the hot tub for their two-year anniversary. Danny wasn’t the only one with a good paycheck.)

Derek and Stiles had fallen into a pattern of near-constant banter and aggressive sarcasm that made Danny want to roll his eyes straight out of his head. Did they know the extent they were engaging in pigtail-pulling? 

Actually, scratch that. Derek definitely knew, and his sassy eyebrows and ever-present smirk proved it. Stiles just kept fighting with him because he was an idiot.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to Beacon Hills for vacation,” said Derek, leaning back and lipping at his beer bottle, a little suggestively, honestly. Danny couldn’t tell if it was conscious or unconscious, the way he was mirroring Stiles’ posture and movements.

“I usually do, but my dad’s on a fishing trip, yada yada yada.” Stiles flapped his hand like a bird taking flight. “At least I know he’s not going to run into any trouble. They’re going to Wyoming, Derek. _Wyoming_. I wish I could make his car break down, or something. Force him to stay there.”

“Yeah, I understand that. When Cora told me she was moving to Tacoma and getting a house in the suburbs, I almost had a party,” said Derek. “Obviously, I’d rather she was here with me, but if she’s safe and happy, I can’t complain.”

“Yes! Exactly! Man, I can’t even get him to retire. He was supposed to do it last year, you know. There’s only so much trauma a police department can take before they decide it’s too much for anyone, especially someone who’s been sheriff for like, ten years. He’s too stubborn, though. As long as he lives in Beacon Hills, he’s gotta be right in the action.”

“Why don’t you get him to move to Virginia with you?” asked Axel, which yes, that was a very pertinent question. Danny didn’t know Stiles’ dad well, but he was new to his job as Sheriff when Danny got busted for hacking at age 13, and it was mostly thanks to him that the charges were dropped. He didn’t like the idea of that man working himself to the bone.

Beacon Hills was a warzone. Nobody should be subjected to more than four years before they got out.

Stiles scoffed at the idea and peeled at his beer bottle. “Nobody wants to live in Virginia, are you kidding me? Besides, he knows I’m only there for the job. I’m going to transfer somewhere else once I’ve paid my dues. It wouldn’t be worth it, uprooting him if I’m only going to be there a couple more years.”

“And he’s never going to leave Beacon Hills if he thinks you’re always going to consider it your hometown,” said Danny.

Stiles frowned at that thought.

“What if you made Oahu your new hometown?” said Derek, staring at the table with no expression on his face, which was such a one-eighty from before that it was pathetically obvious. “Tell him you’re going to come visit me—uh, us, I mean—and talk him into moving here. It’s safe here, he could go out on those fishing boats. Consider it retirement for him and a vacation home for you.”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said doubtfully. “I don’t know if I feel right about leaving the p—leaving everyone else.” 

“You must be close with all your friends back home,” said Axel understandingly.

Stiles looked thoughtful as he peeled another piece off his beer bottle. “I used to be.”

Derek looked sharply at Stiles, like he smelled a story there and would be asking for it as soon as they were alone. 

Danny felt bad, but he told himself to stay out of it. If Stiles was growing some long-needed survival instincts, he didn’t want to jeopardize that. 

Derek was acting as hyped as Danny had ever seen him, like his brain was firing on all cylinders for a way to make this happen. “Actually, if your dad wants to stay out of trouble, I’ve been planning to buy a bigger store by White Plains. There’s this old garage for sale. It would let me expand and I could even start a burger stand, like a two-in-one thing. Maybe he’d want in on something like that.”

“Stiles, no,” said Danny. But he could tell it was falling on deaf ears. There was practically a neon sign floating over Stiles’ head screaming STILES YES. Accompanied by tropical music and a brochure featuring his dad sitting on the beach, wearing a palm-leaf print shirt and sipping smoothies.

Stiles, however, was pretending he was playing it cool. “I’ve gotta figure out how much rent should cost. My dad finally paid off the mortgage, so he won’t want to move if the monthly payments are too much.”

“Don’t forget, everything costs twice as much as it does in the continental US,” said Danny, trying to be the voice of reason. “A lot of people can’t live in houses as big as the ones they’re used to on the mainland.”

“Seriously,” said Derek, nodding and wincing. “I got a three-bedroom ranch with an in-law suite and it cost almost 2 million dollars.”

Danny raised his eyebrows. Real estate was more expensive here, yeah, but Derek had better be on some prime beachfront property for that money.

Derek kept talking, though. “I honestly got a house that was way too big. The original plan was that Cora would come live with me, and Scott said he and some of that crew would definitely come visit, but it didn’t really pan out. Cora met this guy, Mark, like two weeks before she moved here. She ended up going back so they could live together.”

“That fucking sucks, dude,” said Stiles, looking anguished for Derek’s sake. Danny was feeling the same way, if on a smaller scale. A man drops his entire life savings to build a new life in the middle of the Pacific, and everybody bails at the last minute.

“No, Mark is great,” said Derek, sincerely. “He’s a real stand-up guy. I’m just glad she was able to find somebody.”

Maybe it was Stiles’ dramatic nature rubbing off on Danny, but he wanted to bang his head on the table. These guys were two of the biggest martyrs he’d ever met. They were both living their dream, clearly, but Derek’s loneliness was palpable, and Stiles was one more Red Bull away from heart failure. 

Axel was smiling at Derek in a way that meant Derek was about to be aggressively befriended for life.

Derek played with the label on his beer, scratching it with blunt fingernails. Just like Stiles had. Seriously, these two. “And none of the p—the people from home have been able to make it yet. There’s always something going on, so I think they’re just too tired. Gotta take care of yourself, you know?”

“Well, they’re clearly making a mistake,” said Stiles, leaning Derek’s way so they could bump shoulders. It was not smooth at all, but it made Derek brighten up a bit. 

Derek stared at him for a minute before he straightened and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’d love it if your dad wanted to come be my roommate. He could even take the in-law suite, get some privacy. It has a kitchen and everything. And then when you come visit I’ve got two guest rooms. You can sleep wherever you want.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, _way_ too long, and that was enough. Danny had officially hit his UST quota for the night.

“Who wants cocktails?” said Danny desperately, getting up. “I’m sure we’ve got something stronger inside.”

“I’ll help you,” said Axel, following him closely behind. 

They shut the door behind them and didn’t bother going out again. Danny doubted that either Derek or Stiles would even notice.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Danny told himself to stay out of it. It shouldn’t be so hard. He was an expert at avoiding drama in everything but his love life. Actually, maybe his relationship with Axel was so drama-free that he was getting bored and he just needed a fix. 

Horrific thought.

He called Lydia anyway.

He had a moment of misgiving as he waited for the video call to connect. Things with Lydia hadn’t been the same since her boyfriend died junior year. Her boyfriend, Aiden, was Ethan’s twin, and Danny always felt vaguely guilty that his boyfriend lived and hers died, some kind of mis-placed survivor’s guilt. It didn’t make sense. But it did make him feel strange talking to Lydia, even years later. 

He shouldn’t feel awkward, though. Lydia’s smile was both surprised and delighted when she answered, spinning excitedly in her chair as she leaned forward into the camera. “It _is_ you!” she exclaimed, shaking her head in pleased disbelief. “I honestly thought you let your account lapse and I was going to block whoever took over it, after I gave them a piece of my mind. Isn’t using Skype a mark against you and your computer credentials?”

Lydia had changed. She was still very put-together, wearing a silk blouse and expensive jewelry that she was probably wearing just to feel fancy, but her posture was relaxed, her smile a little less prim. Danny remembered long ago when she pretended not to understand basic concepts and relied on gossip and creative threats to stay at the top of the high school food chain. Now she seemed more vulnerable, self-confident like she didn’t constantly need to measure herself by other people anymore.

“I know, that’s my fault,” said Danny, smiling back ruefully. “How’s…”

“We’re doing fine.” Lydia’s eyes softened even more. “Better than fine, actually. We’ve got enough of a stable reputation now that everybody leaves us alone. Scott and Malia are thinking of moving in together, even.”

Danny frowned at that, and had a hard time not letting it turn into a full-blown glare. And yes, he didn’t want to care about this, but at the moment, he was pissed. Stiles deserved better than for everyone to push him away and sail on like nothing happened.

Scott and Stiles’ ex-girlfriend. Danny fucking hated Beacon Hills. He hated how everybody dated everybody. 

No, really. His ex was married to Lydia’s ex, who was the scaly lizard best friend who moved to London. It was gross. They were sweet together, but the whole situation was gross. 

“Danny,” said Lydia, her voice a warning bell. Apparently he’d been quiet for too long. “What’s the matter?”

He sighed, heavily. “Stiles is here. With me. For vacation.”

Again, there was that unselfconscious, happy smile he used to think Lydia wasn’t capable of. “That’s fantastic, Danny! He didn’t tell us where he was going, so we were afraid he was skipping vacation again.”

“Do you guys not like him anymore?” Danny blurted, because he wasn’t feeling particularly patient. “He was talking about Beacon Hills, and he said he ‘used to’ be close to you.” Danny accidentally used air-quotes and froze a little. He needed to calm the fuck down.

“No!” Lydia was reassuringly horrified at that suggestion. “Stiles is family. We’re never going to not want him here. We just, you know. He thinks he has to run back home over every little squabble, and he doesn’t have to. We’ve got things under control.”

“Are you saying he’s not helpful?” Danny said, feeling bizarrely defensive on Stiles’ behalf. 

“No, not at all. He always comes through in a fight,” insisted Lydia. She sighed and pursed her lips, a sign of frustration that hadn’t changed at all. “It’s just—apparently it’s a werewolf thing. Scott figured out that he smells like guilt every time he comes home to Beacon Hills.” She splayed her hands out, like, _there you have it._

“Stiles smells like guilt.” Danny’s eyes unfocused as he took that in. Did Stiles seriously feel guilty? _Stiles?_

“Scott didn’t realize the difference until he went to visit Stiles in D.C. last year. He said Stiles was overworked and stressed, but still more relaxed than when he comes home. So we’ve been telling him to stay there and take care of himself. I guess he’s been taking it the wrong way.”

“You need to tell him,” said Danny. “He’s super sad and it’s bumming me out. Oh, and by the way, nobody’s come to visit Derek, even though he bought a big house for you guys. What the fuck.”

“Derek?” Lydia perked up at that name. “Danny, are you in Hawaii?”

Danny clenched his jaw. Lydia wouldn’t put up with him shutting the laptop in her face. “Yes.”

“We didn’t think Derek actually wanted us to come. Seriously,” said Lydia, her eyes growing wide to show her sincerity. 

“Well, clearly you need to work on your communication, because he’s also sad and lonely. I don’t know what he’s going to do when Stiles leaves. Stare at the ocean all day, probably.”

“Derek and Stiles?” Lydia smirked at him. “Is that finally going to happen?”

“If Derek gets his way. Stiles has no clue.”

Lydia laughed at that, but she sobered. “I just want them to be happy. The last thing we want is to hurt either of them, but it’s hard, you know, because the moment we even hint that there’s any trouble back here, they come running back and take stupid risks, like they’re trying to prove themselves,” Lydia went on, leaning into the camera and wrinkling her perfect brows in frustration. “They deserve better than to spend all their vacations in the town that made them both feel like failures.”

Danny spun in his chair and thought it through. That made enough sense, he guessed. 

“Yeah,” said Danny, chewing on the side of his thumb before he caught himself and stopped. “Yeah, I get that. Stiles is thinking of moving here, permanently, and trying to get his dad to come.”

Lydia calculated for less than a second before she nodded. “Yes. He should do that. He should transfer to the FBI branch in Honolulu.”

“It’s not like they’d have any positions open. Every FBI agent wants to work in Hawaii.”

“But not every FBI agent has you,” said Lydia, tapping her fingers on her mug and smiling sweetly, if a little sharklike.

Danny groaned. He should have seen that coming and dodged accordingly.

“Make it happen, Mahealani.”

“I’m not going to hack into the FBI again just so Stilinski can come eat burgers and eye-fuck Derek Hale on my porch every week. This is going to completely ruin my trauma-free life here. This is my place! Mine!” He took a deep breath and relaxed his fists that he didn’t know he was clenching. He hadn’t felt so tense in years.

Lydia just scoffed at him and leaned to the side, rotating her teacup comfortably in her hands and disregarding his entire rant. “Now, don’t think you can call me and not tell me about the absolute angel in your life. How’s Axel these days?”

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
They had dinner at Derek’s the next day, and Danny drank entirely too much as he looked around the frankly gorgeous house, with its patio filled with empty sun chairs facing the beach, and the fully outfitted guest rooms, and the in-law suite in the backyard that would be fucking perfect for Sheriff Stilinski to retire in peace. 

This was a house made for more than one person. 

He took two shots more than he should have upon noticing that Stiles was definitely getting the message that Derek was interested in him, and was vacillating between hopeful and crushingly disappointed because he’d be leaving one week later. It was so painfully obvious to Danny. He got so drunk that he almost blabbed everything to Axel, but somehow kept all the secrets in and just cried instead.

Axel rubbed his back and herded him toward the car, since Axel was a sober saint and it was his turn to drive. When Danny asked where Stiles was, Axel said Derek invited him to go for a walk on the beach.

Danny just kind of whimpered and started crying harder, hating that Axel was seeing him like this, and let him drive him home.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
“—and it’s like, impossible, to get assigned to the field office over here. Like, people who have been working for decades take paycuts to live here. What are the chances?” Stiles’ hair was sticking everywhere that reminded Danny, unpleasantly, of Coach Finstock, and he’d somehow splashed cereal milk all over his chin in his excitement as he shared his news with them.

“That is such fantastic news!” exclaimed Axel, putting down his fancy yogurt and muesli to give Stiles a big, supportive hug. “I’m so happy to hear you are moving here!”

“That’s amazing,” said Danny, smiling and trying to hide his impulse to yawn. It wasn’t easy pulling off the job reassignment within three days, especially with Stiles staying with them, and he’d been forced to work long hours into the morning. Lydia owed him big time.

But really, it had been three days of Stiles visibly pining, and it was pathetic and Danny needed him out of his house. Just the night before he’d gone to dinner with Derek—so obviously a date—but he came back at eleven, looking happy but heartbroken at the same time. Also, his google searches were all variations of the words ‘healthy long-distance relationship’ and ‘how to make dating long-distance work’, so something had definitely happened.

(Like Danny wasn’t going to find out what Stiles was searching for with his IP address. He was just making sure Stiles was taking the proper precautions online, okay?)

“Oh my gosh, I gotta call my dad,” said Stiles, abandoning his now soggy cereal and making a break for the guest room, almost knocking over a stool in his haste.

“You’re looking sleepy,” said Axel, leaning over the kitchen counter in a way that made his muscles bunch and crunching away at his muesli again. “All that do-gooding getting to you?”

Danny blinked hard, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Huh? No, I just slept weird. I think I’ve got a crick in my neck.”

“I like you,” said Axel, pointing his spoon at him like this was new information.

Danny laughed at him. “I know, you’ve told me you love me many times.”

“I love you, yes, but I also like you. You’re a good person.” Axel rinsed his bowl off in the sink, loaded it into the dishwasher, and kissed Danny on the side of the head. “I’ll bring you coffee on the way home today.”

“I won’t say no to that,” said Danny, grateful that Axel didn’t say _I like it that you hacked into the FBI and pulled some strings to move your friend to a better job in Honolulu_ out loud. He was about to break out into nervous hives already. 

Danny liked his job. He liked acting as a security consultant for big companies looking for holes in their software. He liked when Stiles called him up for freelance work for the FBI. He didn’t like doing anything that could put him in hot water with the U.S. government.

“You know what else,” said Axel, pouring Danny his own bowl of yogurt and muesli and putting it straight into his hands, “It’s a Saturday.”

“Is it?” Danny was honestly surprised. 

“Maybe we should go surfing. And by ‘go surfing’, I mean drop Stiles off at Derek’s surf shop and leave him there, like last time.”

Danny took a bite of muesli and nodded. “That sounds good.”

“And then you can sleep all day.”

“That sounds even better.”

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Stiles was relieved when they told him their plan. He obviously had wanted to go to Derek’s, but didn’t want to be a burden and ask them to drive him, since he didn’t have a rental car.

Danny sat in the front seat, Axel driving next to him, and happily sipped at a coffee tumbler as he watched Stiles staring out the window in a state of awe. The transfer would happen in a month. One more month of Virginian hell, then Stiles was coming to Hawaii.

Danny couldn’t even tamp down the smile on his face. As the weight lifted off of Stiles’ shoulders, Danny felt a little weight lift from his as well. 

They hit traffic and came to a stop, and Axel just reached across and took Danny’s hand as Stiles, uncharacteristically quiet, gazed at the bumper-to-bumper traffic like it was a wonder in and of itself.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
They parked, and Stiles forgot himself and sprinted ahead like a little kid. Axel went to the trunk and pulled out Stiles’ luggage.

Danny snorted and closed the trunk for him. “Why did Stiles pack that?”

Axel heaved the backpack over one shoulder with one hand and took Danny’s hand with the other, and together they followed Stiles to the surf shop. “He didn’t. I did. I had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming back to our house.”

Axel was right, it turned out. They ducked into the shop just long enough to spot Stiles sitting on the front counter, legs entwined around Derek, kissing like they’d been reunited after a tour of duty. Which, in some ways, might be a close enough description. 

“We’ll just leave your stuff here,” called Axel, putting the backpack just inside the door.

They were completely ignored. 

Axel put an arm around Danny, and Danny leaned his head on Axel’s perfectly-placed shoulder. “Want to go home now?”

“No, let’s go for a walk first,” said Danny, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t want to dive straight into another half hour of traffic. Besides, he needed to make sure he did this before he lost his nerve. Stiles was staying, which meant he and Derek would be a part of their lives. And along with them came visits from Lydia, and Scott, and Malia and Mason and whoever else got roped into their pack.

They walked straight onto the beach and stood close enough for the ocean waves to lap over their sandals. “I’m going to tell you some things, and you’re going to think I’m crazy,” started Danny, feeling his pulse pound a little. “Just, please believe me. If you don’t believe me, wait until we see Derek again, and he can show you, maybe. And maybe it will still be too much for you, and I would understand that, I do understand that, but please don’t leave me. Please, please don’t leave me because I don’t know how I can—”

“Oh, my Danny,” said Axel, stepping forward and enveloping him in a warm hug. “It’s because your friends are werewolves, isn’t it?”

Danny went still. “You—did you know?”

“I knew you were from Beacon Hills. Even my family heard about some of the strange things there, and they live in the Alps.”

“You never said anything.” Danny held on harder and let Axel ground him, because his world was officially rocked.

“I thought you needed someone to be normal.” Axel smoothed his hands down Danny’s t-shirt. “If I should have told you, I’m sorry. I thought you would say something when you were ready.”

Danny realized then that when Axel had been comforting him the week before, saying that maybe Danny had been providing a sense of normal for his high school friends, he’d also been talking about himself. 

“No, don’t be sorry,” said Danny, shaking his head against Axel’s neck. “I think you were right. I just needed to pretend for a while.” He took a big breath, feeling his chest shift as it expanded against Axel’s body. “Thank you,” he breathed. He held on and relished the feeling of the water swirling around their ankles before it sucked away from them.

Danny pulled back suddenly. “Wait a minute. How does your family know about werewolves?”

Axel started blushing now, fidgeting like he kind of wanted to pull away. “My great-grandfather, he is a barbegazi. A creature that lives in the Alps.”

“What is that, like, a yeti?” Axel had pale hair and the build of an NBA player, so he wouldn’t be surprised. 

“No,” said Axel, chuckling at him like he was a cute child. “Yetis are tall and furry. A barbegazi is a short gnome with giant feet they use to ski. Surely you noticed my overly large feet when we first met.”

“I was more interested in what they implied,” said Danny a little stupidly, remembering now how Axel had to order his shoes specially made online. 

“Barbegazi are very peaceful, don’t worry,” said Axel, ducking down to look into Danny’s eyes, radiating comfort. “You don’t have to worry about any mood swings or control issues.”

Danny snorted and pulled Axel closer again. “Yeah, I’m not worried about you.”

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Three months later, Danny was pushing a cart through the grocery store, loading up on daily necessities, when he spotted Stiles and Derek in the cereal aisle, holding hands and bickering merrily back and forth.

“Okay, how about this,” Stiles was saying, waggling his eyebrows persuasively. “We buy one box of Reese’s Puffs, and six boxes of Cheerios, and I put the bag of Reese’s Puffs into an empty Cheerios box and hide it all the way in the back. It’s the perfect ruse.”

Derek rolled his eyes and pretended to try walking away before their linked hands pulled him back. “If you want your dad to be healthy, you have to stop having Reese’s Puffs around completely. You know he’s going to spot your dirty cereal bowl in the sink and go hunting for it.”

“Exactly. That’s why we need six boxes. He’ll go through the first three and decide it’s not worth the trouble. Meanwhile, I’ll hide the Reese’s Puffs in his house, where he’d never think to look.”

Derek’s nostrils flared, and he looked straight at Danny. 

So much for pretending he never saw them. 

“Danny, help me out, buddy,” pleaded Stiles. “We’ve got trouble in paradise, and Derek won’t let me buy Reese’s Puffs. Oh! What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Everybody’s coming, and I mean everybody. Scott, Malia, Melissa, Lydia, Jackson, Ethan, Liam, Mason, uh, Mason’s boyfriend?”

“Corey,” Derek supplied, sending Danny a welcoming smile.

“Yes. I’m forgetting a couple, but all the padawans are coming. Also Cora and Mark, and Peter, and Chris maybe?”

Danny was happy to note he only knew about half these people.

“But anyway, you and Axel are a thousand percent invited,” said Stiles, swinging hands with Derek like they were little kids. “It would be weird without you, honestly.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” said Danny, even though he knew Axel would instantly write it on their calendar in bright blue pen. Actually, Axel would probably be calling Derek that night (their bromance was one for the ages) and insinuating himself into a position of party-planning leadership. 

“Oh! We gotta get air mattresses for everyone,” said Stiles, turning all his attention on Derek again. “Although we’ve got to get like, a super nice one for Lydia. As much as I’d love to give her a guest room, we can’t put, like, Chris fucking Argent in the living room, you know what I mean? We have too many ‘adult’ adults. But Lydia’s not going to be happy—”

Don’t do it, Mahealani. Don’t do it. Don’t—

“I’ll call Lydia and see if she wants to stay at our place,” said Danny. “I’ll talk to Axel about it.”

“You’re a god among men, Danny,” said Stiles, totally serious. Derek was doing that eye-roll/fake-annoyance thing again, but then he smiled at Danny like he agreed with Stiles completely. “You are a hero, you’re a legend, you’re the reason Lydia’s not going to skin me alive.”

“Really, though,” said Derek, softly in a way Danny would have never predicted back in high school. “Thank you.”

The two of them smiled at him in a way that meant they weren’t just talking about them putting Lydia up in his house. Of course they suspected he had something to do with Stiles’ transfer to the Honolulu office. Neither of them were as dumb as they acted sometimes. 

Danny let himself take in the pair of them, holding hands and sporting new laugh lines. He and Axel saw them every few weeks, at least, and the changes had come gradually enough that he didn’t always notice. Stiles still worked long hours, but now he had someone (two someones, if you counted both Derek and Stiles’ dad) making sure he ate properly and got the rest he needed. Stiles’ raccoon eyes were gone, and his complexion had gone from sallow and pock-marked to glowingly perfect. Being happy and swimming in the ocean will do that to you. 

Derek’s shoulders had lost their slouch, and while he still used snark and sarcasm to get him through his daily interactions, now it felt less like a defensive reflex and more like a playful personality reasserting itself. One thing hadn’t changed since three months ago, and that was the way he always migrated to Stiles’ side, no matter where they were.

“Happy to do it,” said Danny, and was surprised that he meant it.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Two years later, when they asked Danny to officiate at their beachside ceremony, he said no.

* * *

❀❁❀❁❀

* * *

  
Then he went online and got ordained.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh! Writing from Danny's POV is HARD because he has such a small part in the show! This fic came from my own conflict with his character because he's a cool guy, he's pretty darn nice, but he also didn't go in swinging when his friends were fighting for their lives. (Like, the "Dude, it's Beacon Hills," quote is pretty iconic and appropriately represents all the poor citizens that live there, but it also makes Danny more morally gray than I ever wanted him to be.)
> 
> All I know about Hawaii is that time I went to Waikiki 15 years ago. I stepped on a sea urchin, so you can guess that I didn’t know anything then and I know almost nothing now. But! If you wanna tell me something new, or correct some erroneous information, I'm totally interested!


End file.
